Wrapped Around Her Finger
by Carlos'sCupcake
Summary: Just a lil Daddy Logan drabble


Baby cries coming from the monitor jar me awake. I roll over and open my eyes, seeing my wife sleeping deeply. She's been exhausted and is currently sleeping hard; I know it's been tough on her with me going back to work this past week, so I decide to get up and take care of our seven week old daughter. I climb out of the bed and turn off the monitor sitting on the nightstand at her side of the bed before slipping into my pajama pants, and exiting our bedroom and then padding across the hall.

Anya's fists are curled up and she's kicking her legs while her face is scrunched up in discomfort. "Hey princess, daddy's here", I pick her up, cradling her in my arms. This does nothing to sooth her, instead her wails grow louder. "Shhh, mommy's sleeping and she needs her rest", I whisper even though she doesn't understand as I head towards the stairs. Everything's blurry considering I don't have my glasses on, but I manage to make it downstairs without any mishaps and lay Anya on the couch with a quick, "I'll be right back with a bottle, and then we'll change your diaper", once again aware that it's no consolation to the infant.

Snatching my glasses from their resting place on the coffee table, I slide them on and run to the kitchen where I prepare a bottle and rush back to the couch, picking Anya up again. Feeling bad because she's crying even harder, I stand up and rock her back and forth, placing the nipple to her lips which she begins to suck at greedily, staring up at me with her blue eyes and emitting a few grunts to show her disapproval. Her little fists are still balled up, but now at the sides of her face. I can't help but to chuckle, thinking she looks like a little fighter as I sit down on the sofa, propping my feet up on the coffee table and grabbing the remote to turn the t.v. on.

Halfway through the feeding, I notice Anya's eyes flutter closed and she's sucking on the breast milk slowly. I carefully pull the bottle away and fumble around to lay down the changing mat next to me, followed by my precious little girl. Her eyes are of course open now and she looks up at me. She babbles on while I change her diaper, to which I respond with funny noises, delighted at the few smiles I'm able to get from her.

Once she's all clean and buttoned back up in her sleeper, she coos, letting me know she's not going back to sleep anytime soon. I lift her up and rest her against my chest, realizing that I forgot to burp her. I pat her back gently but firmly until a tiny burp escapes her mouth, making me smile. I hold her up carefully making sure to support her neck and nuzzle her tender cheeks, the scent of baby powder filling my nostrils. Next, I blow raspberries until she kicks her legs and squeals, then set her down on the couch, propping her up against a pillow so she's sitting up. "You wanna watch t.v. with daddy?", I ask, and grin as she just looks around the living room the way she often does.

When I go to the kitchen for a drink, I trip on a basket of unfolded clothes lying on the floor on the hallway that I miraculously had somehow missed earlier, and notice that the dishes haven't been done, nor has the kitchen been cleaned from dinner. I sigh and run my hands through my hair, wishing there was more I could do to help my wife. She tries to be supermom and I know it's challenging. She went so far as to decline my offer of hiring a part-time nanny to help out since I work long hours, and there's only so much assistance I can offer her.

Spotting the bouncer on the table, I move it to the counter and go retrieve Anya, strapping her into the seat and turning it on vibrate before putting up the attachment, consisting of a monkey hanging down, a plastic toy ring she can play with, and a mirror. Once that's taken care of and she's batting happily at the swinging toys, I turn on the music, letting the sounds of the rainforest fill the room.

It doesn't take long for me to clean up the kitchen, load the dishwasher, and fold the laundry. By the time I'm finished, Anya is growing fussy as if everything was perfectly timed, and I strut over to her while beginning to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, the song I used to sing to her everyday when she was in my wife's belly since we found out she was pregnant. She calms down slightly and I take her out of the restraints and dance my way to the living room with her.

The first thing I do back at the couch is check her diaper, which I find dry, so I take the unfinished bottle and try feeding her again. This does the trick, and within minutes my precious baby is asleep in my arms, her whole entire tiny body relaxed as if she doesn't have in the world. I move her slowly and gently so as not to wake her, and lay her against my chest once again to elicit a burp, which comes easily, and find myself yawning several times, thus determining that I'm ready to go back to bed as well.

Not even bothering to turn either the t.v. or the lights off, I make my way back upstairs, tip-toeing through the hallway to set Anya back down in her crib. The moment her back touches the mattress, her lower lip juts out into an adorable pout and she whimpers. I feel something stab at my heart, and lift her right back up, laughing inwardly as a contented sigh passes through her parted lips once she's rested back in the crook of my arm.

I shake my head and decide that maybe mommy and daddy's bed is more comfortable for her, and carry her into our room where my wife is sound asleep. I make some room by patting down a smooth area with my free hand, and then lay my daughter down, waiting to hear a sign of her disapproval, but my princess doesn't move a muscle. I climb in next to her, giving a bit of extra space in case I should need it, and begin to nod off with a special thought that brings a smile to my face. This little girl sure does have her daddy wrapped around her little finger already.


End file.
